Peace
by Ster J
Summary: One glass of brandy, and Spock is back in the throes of Ponn Farr. Uhura is very helpful...


PEACE by Ster J  
  
DISCLAIMER: Don't own Trek. Wish I did. It may own ME, however.  
  
Characters: Spock, Uhura, Dr. Corrigan  
  
Thank you, Jean Lorrah, for Dr. Daniel Corrigan and Healer Sorel.  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Genre: Angst  
  
Setting: Post-"Amok Time"  
  
Part I  
  
(Log on.)  
  
(Sometimes I find it difficult to hear on Vulcan. You'd think I would have gotten used to it by now. The thin atmosphere has helped me to develop other talents, or maybe it's just because I've lived around telepaths for so long that they're starting to rub off on me. I feel a person's presence before I hear them. That's how it was today when Spock entered my office in ShiKahr. I looked up to see him standing in the doorway, doe-eyed, the anxiety betraying on his face the turmoil within. He looked as if he might flee, so I approached him slowly.)  
  
"Spock. I didn't know you were home."  
  
"Dr. Corrigan..." he began, and then his voice trailed off. I motioned him to come in as I closed the office door.  
  
"What's wrong?" He cast his eyes about, not really seeing anything, his hands alternately clenching and releasing, then wringing, then forced to be still.  
  
"I didn't know to whom I could talk," he said so softly that I nearly had to rely on lip reading to understand him. I steered him to my couch. He curled himself into a ball at the far end. I unobtrusively picked up a scanner and ran it over him. His bio readings were for the most part sound. It wasn't his health, I decided.  
  
"What happened?" I repeated. He stirred uncomfortably.  
  
"Did you hear what happened between T'Pring and me?" I nodded.  
  
"I think the whole planet has heard about it." He scowled at that. "Look, Spock, if this is about going through ponn farr, perhaps you should see Healer Sorel." Spock shook his head.  
  
"I couldn't. I cannot separate myself from the emotions. There is more to the story than the events that transpired at Koon-ut Kalifee." I still felt uncomfortable. These kinds of things should be discussed father- to-son, but I knew better than to bring up Sarek's name.  
  
"Okay, son. Why don't you start from the beginning and tell me only what you're comfortable relating. I'll do my best to understand."  
  
(I have to admit that I wasn't surprised to hear about T'Pring's actions. Although her behavior was really shocking by modern Vulcan standards, T'Pring was in her rights. This ship's physician who slipped a "mickey" to Spock's friend to simulate death intrigued me. Sounds like my kind of guy. I hope I'll meet him someday.)  
  
"I left my friends in the captain's cabin and was heading for my own when I was...overwhelmed. I went to the first door I saw and begged whoever was inside to let me in. I found myself in the communication officer's quarters. She had been asleep. I asked if I could talk to her. She was very concerned about me and helped me to her bed." I raised my eyebrows at that. I hadn't spoken, but Spock looked at me as though I had just said something stupid.  
  
"There was no other place to sit. Anyway, I was shaking and gasping for air. She wanted to call Sickbay for me, but I wouldn't let her. So instead she helped me slow down my breathing. I must have fallen asleep then, because the next thing I knew it was morning and we were wrapped around each other. I had absolutely no recollection of the night before. I woke her up and asked what had happened. She said I had fallen asleep, so she slept beside me."  
  
Spock took a pillow from the couch and squeezed with both hands, nearly twisting it apart. His breathing came in fits and starts and he began to shake. I tried to hide my shock when I saw the tears threaten to spill. Here it comes.  
  
"She said...that, at one point during the night,...I rolled over on top of her and initiated intercourse." He paused and took several breaths to calm himself. It didn't work. "I asked her if I had taken advantage of her, but she said that she had been more than willing. I asked if I had ...hurt...her, but she said no, that I had been very gentle." He gulped again for air. "I kept apologizing. I didn't know what else to say." Another pause. "She said that she had smelled alcohol on my breath. I wasn't drunk, I swear. I had had only one glass of brandy with my captain, but I wasn't drunk."  
  
(I didn't say anything. Again I wished that Spock and Sarek were speaking to each other, because this conversation should have been between family. I let him talk himself out completely. The torrent of words finally slowed to a trickle and he was quiet. Once the terrible weight had been unloaded, his body began to relax. I knew he was ready to listen when he looked at me.)  
  
"Are you finished?" Spock nodded.  
  
"What happened to me?" he asked. "And why do I have no memory of it?" I leaned closer.  
  
"There's a simple answer, actually. Tell me, when did the plak tow leave you?"  
  
"When the battle was finished, and I thought I had...killed... my captain." I nodded.  
  
"And what happened to all of the hormones in your body that were turning your blood to fire?" He shrugged.  
  
"They dissipated?"  
  
"Not entirely. Your body efficiently filters out what is spent and no longer needed, but it needs time to rid them all from your bloodstream. Their combination with the alcohol in the brandy kick started them again and you had another flare-up of plak tow. The communications officer may have saved your life." Spock sat back. He released his death grip on my pillow. I risked putting my hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Has she forgiven you?" After a moment, he nodded. I leaned closer to him and looked him in the eye. "Now it is time for you to forgive yourself." He pulled back from me.  
  
"But I had a choice regarding my actions." I shook my head.  
  
"Not when you are overwhelmed by the power of ponn farr. You are not responsible."  
  
"But if I hadn't had that drink..."  
  
"It doesn't matter. It's in the past. What's done is done." Spock took a deep breath and held it a while, before blowing it out. It was not quite a sigh. "So, what will it be, Spock?" I asked him. "Is this behind you now?" Eventually, he nodded.  
  
"It no longer consumes me," he answered. I patted him soundly on the back.  
  
"Good. I'm glad that you are at peace."  
  
(It is a terrible thing, this silence between Sarek and Spock. After all we went through to conceive this living bridge between two planets made it doubly difficult to see the turmoil between them. Spock hungered for a relationship with his father. I've always suspected that he related to me as a surrogate for Sarek, and I could tell it in the way he hugged me fiercely before he left.)  
  
(I told Spock to inform his partner that he is free of any sexually transmitted diseases, so she won't need to worry about that, but, since he was at his most fertile because of the ponn farr, she should get a pregnancy test at her earliest convenience.)  
  
(I found myself thinking about the hormonal changes of ponn farr and the effects of alcohol. It would make an interesting study, but not one that could easily be published on Vulcan. I'm going to talk to Sorel about this. After all, we are as responsible for Spock's existence as Amanda and Sarek.)  
  
(Log out.)  
  
Part II  
  
Uhura had just changed out of her uniform into a soft caftan when she heard the door chime. "Come," she called out automatically, wondering who would be calling at this hour.  
  
The doors parted and revealed Spock, still clad in his traveling robes, a bag over one arm.  
  
"May I come in?" Uhura remembered the last time Spock had come calling at such an hour. But the person who now stood before her was so different from the vulnerable, panicked person who had pounded on her cabin door and begged to be let in.  
  
"Of course," she replied, subconsciously pulling the folds of her robe more modestly in front of her as the Vulcan entered her cabin. Spock did not miss the gesture, and his head lowered a fraction in guilt. He shook his head.  
  
"You needn't worry, Lieutenant. I will not require anything of you."  
  
"Please. After all we've been through, call me Nyota." It was subtle, but Uhura saw Spock relax at that. In turn, she felt herself relax. (Imagine being nervous around Spock, after all the times we've served side by side!) "What can I do for you?"  
  
"My family physician has told me to relate a message to you." That surprised Uhura. What would Spock's doctor want with her? "He said to inform you that I have no sexually transmitted disease, so you have no chance of contracting one from me." Uhura couldn't believe how easily Spock had related that bit of very personal information. (I wonder if he had to practice saying that, or if he really *can* separate himself from emotion.) Spock's gaze dropped to the floor. "He also recommends that you have a pregnancy test at your earliest convenience."  
  
"A pregnancy test?" she repeated. Spock continued to study the carpet. He nodded.  
  
"I was at my most fertile time then. I concur with the doctor." Uhura shook her head.  
  
"That will not be necessary," she whispered, her cheeks growing very warm.  
  
"Please," Spock insisted, lifting his head, "for our own peace of mind." Uhura shook her head again.  
  
"No. It's not necessary."  
  
"But you could be pregnant."  
  
"I know I'm not."  
  
"But how can you be so sure?" Uhura just stared at him. Slow realization dawned on Spock's face. He felt his own cheeks flare with embarrassment. "Forgive me. Of course you would know."  
  
They both paused in embarrassed silence. Finally Uhura crossed the room and placed a hand on Spock's arm.  
  
"We should talk." Spock looked at her, no discernible emotion, but no mask either. Uhura felt that she was seeing his true face. He nodded.  
  
"Yes, we should talk, but not here. Perhaps a more neutral location." Uhura thought a moment.  
  
"Let me get back into uniform and I'll meet you on the observation deck."  
  
"That is adequate. I need to check in with the Captain first, so I will meet you there in, say, twenty minutes?" Uhura nodded, smiling.  
  
"Twenty minutes." Spock nodded to her, then turned and left her cabin.  
  
Uhura felt nervous, which in turn made her feel silly. She shifted the padd in the crook of her arm and tried to look like the efficient officer she was, but anyone who saw the pen trembling in her hand would know better. With her free hand she smoothed her uniform, then her hair, then her uniform again. She was early and the wait was unbearable.  
  
Soon enough Spock rounded the corner and entered the observation deck. He curiously eyed the padd Uhura carried and read what she had written on it.  
  
*I though it should look like we are working. Room three is empty.*  
  
Spock nodded and took the pen.  
  
*I suppose I should sign this.* Uhura read his response and smiled as they entered OD3. Spock's attempt at humor had the desired effect. Uhura relaxed and was herself. The two sat in companionable silence for a while.  
  
"You know, Spock, I think I understand what happened."  
  
"Indeed? It took a visit to my family physician for me to understand."  
  
"I've read many texts from various planets over the years in their original languages, practicing my translating techniques. I don't always understand what I read until later when I learn another piece of the puzzle. You just 'celebrated a Time,' right?" Spock took a deep breath.  
  
"If you know that much, Nyota, then you must also know how very personal a question you just asked." Uhura crossed her arms and looked expectantly at Spock, silently demanding an answer. Finally, Spock sighed again and nodded.  
  
"And that night you were with me should have been your wedding night." Two personal questions.  
  
"Yes. But how did you know that?" Uhura reached out and took Spock's hand.  
  
"Because that's what you were crying about when you entered my cabin." Spock's hand tightened on hers.  
  
"I was weeping?" he asked in a small voice.  
  
"Your cheeks were dry, but your eyes were very full. Then your breathing became so erratic. I wanted to call McCoy, but you wouldn't let me. You curled yourself up on the corner of my bunk and tried to control your breathing. Then you just fell asleep." Spock looked away. "I would have slept on the floor, but I was afraid that you'd wake up during the night and trip over me."  
  
"At what point did I remove my clothes?" Uhura shrugged.  
  
"I only tugged off your boots and loosened your collar so you'd be more comfortable. The next thing I knew, you were under the covers, nude, and you were sniffing me."  
  
"'Scenting.' I was inhaling your personal scent. It's considered foreplay to my people." Spock looked up at Uhura. "Did you try to push me away?" She nodded.  
  
"At first, but then I felt how hot you were. You felt feverish to me. Then I remembered some of the texts I had translated. I knew then that your life was at stake. I became a very willing partner." Uhura took a deep breath. "And something else happened. You not only entered my body, but also my mind. I knew how I felt to you, and I knew your reaction to me. I've never experienced something that profound before. It was so beautiful that I wept." Spock covered her hand with his other one. He nodded.  
  
"So that's why I thought I had hurt you. I remembered you crying." Tears stung her eyes again.  
  
"You didn't hurt me," she said with a shy smile. "You were very tender. It was the most beautiful time I've ever had with a man. It was better than any of those Vulcan romance novels I translated." Spock started at that.  
  
"You've read Vulcan erotica? Wherever did you find it?" Uhura smiled again.  
  
"It wasn't easy to find."  
  
"Indeed," Spock replied. "Vulcan erotica is banned on twenty-two worlds in the Federation." Uhura leaned closer to him, adding her other hand.  
  
"Spock, if you ever are in need again, I am here." Spock gazed warmly at Uhura.  
  
"I am very grateful to you for saving my life. And I will not force you into any sort of relationship you do not wish to have." Uhura gave his hands a squeeze and smiled.  
  
"I'm glad that I could help you," she replied. Uhura then cast a furtive glance around the room. "You know," she whispered, "maybe we shouldn't tell Christine Chapel about this." Spock gave a start, then leaned in and whispered back.  
  
"Highly logical." Uhura released Spock's hands to stand up and found herself scooped up into a brief, powerful embrace. She responded as best she could and planted a kiss noisily on his cheek. When Spock put her back down, Uhura straightened her uniform, picked up the padd, erased its top page and keyed it to display a text of tame Vulcan poetry.  
  
"There. Now, if anyone asks, I could show them this poem you were helping me translate." Spock read the new display as they left OD3.  
  
--Now the herald of the day  
-- breaks the stillness of the morn,  
--And with feathered wings unfurled  
-- cries to the sleeping world,  
--"Awake!"  
  
He nodded and changed the word "feathered" to "silvered." At Uhura's puzzled glance he explained softly, "I am supposed to be helping you with the translation."  
  
"But, Mr. Spock, the root word here is 'feather.' How can a bird be 'silvered'?" she argued.  
  
"Lieutenant, have you ever seen the birds to which the poet is referring?" Spock replied as they proceeded down the corridor, to the puzzled glance of curious onlookers.  
  
(Stardate 3401.6)  
  
(To: Doctor D. Corrigan, Vulcan Science Academy Medical Center. ShiKahr, Vulcan.) (From: Commander Spock, U.S.S. Enterprise, NCC-1701.)  
  
(Daniel,)  
  
(I thank you for your care and understanding during my recent trip to Vulcan. You helped me through a difficult time in your usual calm manner. I have delivered your advice to the lieutenant of whom I spoke. She is well and not pregnant. That certainly makes life much less complicated. I, too, am well and more myself. I am at peace. May you be the same. Live long and prosper.)  
  
FIN 


End file.
